


What's One Hellhound?

by Quinny_555



Series: You Should See Me in a Crown [11]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Ash Being Ash, Ash lives, BAMF Castiel (Supernatural), BAMF Sam Winchester, Boy King of Hell Sam Winchester, Ellen Harvelle Lives, Gen, Hellhounds, Hurt Sam Winchester, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Jo Harvelle Lives, Lilith (Supernatural) Being an Asshole, Meg Masters Cares, Protective Ellen Harvelle, Protective Meg Masters, Protective Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester Has Visions, Sam Winchester's Demonic Powers, This is a Lot More Than I Expected, the Roadhouse never burned down
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 09:42:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17916419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quinny_555/pseuds/Quinny_555
Summary: Sam has a vision of the Jo, Ellen, and Ash being killed in an attack on the Roadhouse and tries to stop it despite his suspicion that it could be a trap.





	What's One Hellhound?

**Author's Note:**

> Hello Readers! Just in case you didn't notice, in this 'verse the Roadhouse never burned down. Also, this turned out to be a lot... more than I expected. I don't know, longer more angsty, whatever. I'm not the most eloquent when I'm tired, but I hope you enjoy!

“Hands in the air or I shoot,” The little blond woman said, cocking the shotgun as if it would actually do anything to him. Sam sighed and did as bid if only to calm her nerves. He knew he would startle her if he just teleported in on her unbidden, but he couldn't let his vision come to pass. 

“We still have any-” Ash paused at the scene he walked in on.”Woah, I thought you were possessed, man.” 

“He is,” Jo hissed. 

“No, I'm not.” Jo glared at him. “I'll take a shot of holy water if that makes you feel better.” 

“If you're not a demon, how did you just appear in here?” 

“I never said I was human,” he said. “I'm actually the King of Hell, but I'm not a demon or possessed by one. I gain power kinda like… well, the closest example I can think of is like a pagan god.” 

“You’ll take a shot of holy water?” It was less of a question and more of a demand, but he nodded anyway. 

“Ash, get me some holy water.” He pulled a jug of it out from under the counter and poured it into a shot glass and handed it to Sam. Sam nodded at him before downing it in one go. 

“I'm just happy not to have it splashed all over me for once,” He muttered. She didn't put it down but it was pointed at the ground and not him, so he took it as a win. 

“So you're a pagan god?” Jo asked skeptically. 

“No. I'm the King of actual Hell, but I gain my power through similar methods. They thrive on sacrifice and generally the fear or love of their worshipers. I thrive on the life and general existence of my demons.” 

“Sometimes I regret ever meeting you Winchesters,” Jo muttered. 

“And angels exist, just so you're in the loop.” 

“For real?” Ash asked. 

“Don't get excited. They suck.” Sam muttered and held up his shot glass. “Can I get a shot of something stronger?” 

~~~ 

“So you're just… you, but powerful?” Jo said once Sam had finished his explanation of what had happened since he last saw her. Ellen had joined them soon after Sam requested something stronger and now the whole roadhouse crew was in the know. 

“Yeah, I guess,” Sam said. 

“I, for one, am not surprised,” Ash said and took a drink of his beer. 

“About what, that I'm the King of Hell or that I didn't have a huge personality shift?” 

“Both. I totally called it.” Sam wouldn't really be surprised if he really  _ had  _ called it. 

“So, why are you here? You Winchesters generally aren't big on the whole ‘relevant information sharing’ thing.” Ellen said and Sam winced a little guilty. She wasn't wrong. 

“I had a vision of… something happening to you guys. I kind of panicked and teleported here before I could really think it through.” 

“Well, don't leave us in suspense. What happened?” Ellen drawled. 

“I'm not sure, which in and of itself is worrying. It was also more intense and panic-inducing than my normal visions, which makes me think that it might have been sent to me to lure me here.” 

“Then why are you still here, if you think it's a trap?” Jo asked, looking around circumspectly. 

“Because it might be a trap, but you could also still be in danger.” 

“That's mighty thoughtful of you, Sam, but we can take care of ourselves,” Ellen said. 

“No, you… look, Ellen, I know you and Jo are fantastic hunters, but I could feel the power of whatever was attacking you even if I wasn't sure what it was. I'm not risking it.” He told them firmly. 

“Sleepover,” Ash said enthusiastically, taking another pull of his Pabst Blue Ribbon. 

~~~ 

Ash was passed out the pool table that Sam and Jo weren’t using a few hours later. It was dark out and Ellen was doing something behind the bar. 

“You're good, Sam, but you're not that good.” She said and he gave a sly smirk. He was about to, hopefully, prove her wrong when he heard it. The long, drawn-out howl that still haunted his nightmares. Everyone else heard it too, apparently, and looked up at the sound. 

“That bitch,” Sam growled. One of the things his powers didn't work well on, because they had never been souls. Hellhounds. 

“What  _ is  _ that?” Jo asked. She sounded horrified, and she had every reason to. He had seen them in battles for Hell, taking out demons like nothing he had seen before. Before even that he had watched the tear his brother apart. The angel blade he had taken from Uriel while Castiel hadn't been looking slipped into Sam’s hand and determination warred with cold fury on his face. 

“Hellhounds.” Sam said. 

“Damnit,” Ellen muttered. Sam tried teleporting to Hell to get back up, but… he couldn't. He was cut off from teleporting and telepathic communication. 

“How do we fight them?” Jo asked. 

“You don't. You get Ash and go to the back room and I take care of them.” 

“Uhuh. You're not fighting one of those things alone.” Ellen protested fiercely. 

“I'm the only one with an angel blade,” Sam spun it around in his hand. “And I'll use my powers.” He offered a fake smile. “I'll be fine,” It tasted like a lie. 

“I call bullshit,” Ellen said frankly. “You wouldn't need the blade if your powers worked on these.” She pointed out. He rubbed his face. 

“I can't have more good people torn apart by hellhounds because of me. I won't.” The howls were getting steadily louder.  _ “Don't do this Sam. It's suicide.”  _ Lucifer said so quietly that Sam would have missed it if he hadn't been listening for any telepathic messages from his demons. He promptly told the devil to shut it and blocked him easily. “I promise I'll take care of it. I can't die, remember?” That wasn't strictly true, but he had more stamina and strength than the average human. 

“Sam, we can't just-” Jo started. 

“No. Please just go to Ash’s room and salt it.” He looked at her desperately, pleading with his eyes. 

“Joanna Beth, go. We’ll take care of this.” Ellen said before Jo could say anything else. Sam knew he wasn't getting her to leave. The hounds were practically on them by the time they got Jo and Ash into the back room and salted the door. 

“You still got that rock salt shotgun?” Sam asked as they returned to the bar. She nodded and grabbed it. “It’ll be more effective than real ammo.” And then the doors were straining against the force of a hellhound. The salt was really the only thing keeping them out. Just as they were about to burst through, Sam realized something. Prayers weren’t telepathic communication in the traditional sense, and they can't be blocked like telepathic communication.  

“I pray to the angel Castiel,” Sam started and Ellen gave him a strange look. He memorized every prayer that Pastor Jim taught him eagerly when he and Dean would stay there as kids. He just hoped he got it right. “My guardian dear, to whom God’s love commits me here,” Not only one, but two hellhounds burst through the door as Sam laminated that he had the worst luck. 

He sprang at the first one, taking it down with the full momentum of his body. They went rolling and Sam continued his prayer. “Ever this day, be at my side,” He landed on the bottom as he heard a shotgun go off. He slashed at it, taking out at least one eye. It slashed in return, tearing his shirt with its claws. Blood welled up and he let out a scream between gritted teeth. “To light and guard me against  _ hellhounds _ ,” he grabbed it by the throat and stuck his blade into its stomach and dragged down. The shotgun blasts that he had heard since the fight started came to an abrupt stop and he gathered his strength to push the gutted hound off of him. He staggered to his feet to defend his friend only to see Castiel fighting the hellhound in all his angelic glory. He ended the fight when he stabbed it through the skull. 

Aside from looking a little more ruffled than usual, he looked like himself. Ellen, who was still behind the counter, had scratches marring one arm, but she didn't look to be in danger of bleeding out yet. He was glad, no one had died.  _ “Not yet,”  _ Lucifer growled angrily at the back of his skull and Sam wondered if him not being able to block out Satan despite the weak connection was because of blood loss. His knees hit the floor and he looked down at his blood mixed that of the hellhound. He winced as he put his hand on one of the deep gashes. He heard Ellen say his name but he didn't respond. He couldn't get his body to work. Suddenly Meg was next to him, lowering him the rest of the way to the ground. 

“Clarence!” She snapped at the angel. “Heal him, or so help me,” He was there in a second, leaning over the King of Hell. He put his hand above the wound and frowned. 

“I can't,” He said. “There is interference.” She made a sound at the back of her throat that sounded like a cross between a growl and a scoff. She pulled his head into her lap and grabbed the blade he dropped. She cut her wrist deep and pushed it toward his mouth. He shook his head and tried to move away, but she forced him to be still. She pressed her wrist to his mouth and he made a small noise. 

“What are you doing?” Ellen asked quietly. She stared at the scene and didn't know what to make of it. Sam didn't seem to want the blood the lady forced down his throat, but if it could help him where an angel couldn't… he was in pretty bad shape. He was bleeding everywhere. She grabbed the first aid kit and approached him. The lady didn't protest when she started cutting away at his shirt; or, what was left of it. She started wiping away the blood. 

Meg flexed her fist to make more blood come out. Her other hand was stroking his hair and she realized with startling clarity that she  _ cared  _ about Sam. Sure, before she knew that she didn't want him to die because he was valuable to her survival and she liked him. But this feeling in her gut now that she thought he might die; it was the most human she felt since going to Hell for her husband. She heard the caramel haired chick that was cleaning his chest gasp and looked up to see his wounds slowly stitching themselves back together. She grinned and the knot in her chest loosened. It was working. She had been far from sure this would work, but it was worth a shot after all. 

There was another gasp and Meg looked up to see a blonde girl walk in and turn green. 

“Sam,” She said and she sounded like she was gonna be sick. The caramel haired chick got up and put her arm around the blond one, steering her away and telling her Sam was gonna be fine. 

“Why don't you make yourself useful and go get Dean,” Meg said to the angel that was still lingering. He nodded and was gone. Once most of the bleeding had stopped she pulled her wrist away. Sam was mumbling under his breath and his eyes were screwed shut. She continued to run her fingers through his shaggy hair until he passed out from exhaustion. She knew that he wouldn't be willing to drink half this much blood every day and that he would start suffering withdrawals once it started working its way out of his system. Hell, she could barely get him to drink the small amount she puts in his wine every evening thanks to that bitch Ruby. 

Dean and Castiel were suddenly back and Dean dropped to his knees next to his unconscious brother. 

“Jesus,” he muttered. “What happened?” 

“Hellhounds, sent by Lilith.” Castiel rumbled. Dean checked his pulse and seemed mostly satisfied. She knew he wouldn't have been satisfied if he had seen his brother ten minutes ago before his wounds started healing, but she was glad he hadn't; it was easier on everyone. 

“We have to find her and fast. If the bitch is anything she’s persistent.” Meg said angrily. 

“And she wants Sam dead,” Dean agreed gravely. Tonight they would take care of Sam, but when he was better… Lilith was going down. 

**Author's Note:**

> ~Im sorry~ I also have a headcanon that Meg is actually Megara from Greek mythology (but she was never saved from Hell... obviously).


End file.
